


Board Up Your Windows

by missmollyetc



Category: Numb3rs
Genre: Coercion, M/M, Sibling Incest, discussions of past-underage sexual relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-14
Updated: 2010-09-14
Packaged: 2017-10-11 20:31:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/116784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missmollyetc/pseuds/missmollyetc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Don and Charlie, Don and Charlie, it's always been Don for Charlie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Board Up Your Windows

**Author's Note:**

> This is for Jamjar, who wanted "Numb3rs, Don/Charlie, library!kink" only I'm not entirely certain that this is what she meant.
> 
> ETA: It is! \o/ \o/

The Management library is never empty, but the top floor is mostly archival storage, floor-to-ceiling rows of shelving on embedded tracks, opening with the twirl of a lever. Charlie likes the quiet, but—probably more to the point—Charlie likes the lone study carrel tucked into the furthest corner of the floor, buttressed by a supporting pillar.

The carrel is old, and the wood creaks beneath Don's hands where he's braced himself, one hand on either side of his spread thighs. Charlie rests his forehead against Don's bared knee, and licks his lips. His hands are trembling, fingers twisting around themselves, close enough to Don's heat and still, _still_ not allowed to bury themselves inside of it.

"Don, do you…" he licks his lips again, "do you remember the first time you kissed me? It was in a library, too."

Charlie lifts his head, and presses his mouth to Don's kneecap, tugs at his leg hairs between his teeth, and lets them go. The carrel creaks again, shaking beneath Don's weight. Charlie hears a muffled whine, and glances up. Don is chewing the knot of his gag, ruining the fine weave of his tie.

Every time Don says this will be the last, and every time Charlie agrees, sweat at his temples and blooming in his armpits, slick at the small of his back. Charlie is tired of words, and Don…eventually, Don always gives Charlie what he wants.

Charlie reaches up and traces the reddening bulge of Don's lips, following the swash of dark grey material to the side of Don's face and down to his neck. Don ducks his head and breathes hard through his nose; hot puffs of air hit Charlie's forearm. He shivers, and drops his hand to Don's waist. Don's so very, very hard; leaking at the tip and dripping down to his balls, wetting the boxers tangled at his ankles. Charlie pushes a hand down against his own cock, rubbing up and down the zipper, and moans, shuddering.

Don's hips jerk, rocking the carrel, and Charlie flexes his arm around Don's back, dragging his chair across the floor until he can lay his head on Don's thigh, and drag his tongue up Don's flushed cock. He kisses the head, sucks until precome spurts on his tongue, and wraps his other arm around Don's waist, pulling off to nuzzle into the base of Don's cock. Don shivers, and the carrel creaks ominously.

"You kissed me," Charlie says, breathing just to inhale Don's scent. "You fucked me in one, too. I think it was the same week."

Don's hand slides into Charlie's hair, fingers tight in his curls and nails digging in his scalp. Charlie tilts his head up, already panting

"I learned so _much_ ," Charlie says.

His hips jerk up, rocking the chair on its legs, when Don pulls his head back down to suck his cock. In the Anthropology section, when Charlie was sixteen, Don taught him how to deepthroat, carefully, patiently, letting him try and try, and, in the microfiche cupboard, he taught Charlie how to love a cock up his ass. Don was sorry for it afterwards—he said he was, he always, always said he was afterwards—but he never stopped letting Charlie practice until the day Don ran away to be an FBI agent, and Charlie gambled on game theory to bring him back. Charlie opens wide, and the taste is everything he remembers, everything he's always—only—known. Don was first and in many ways Don was last, because Charlie started early, started early in everything, and what he can do, he does really, truly, so very well. Charlie is a genius, and he has only been permitted the best of teachers.

He relaxes his throat, sinking his nose into Don's pubic hair, and swallows until Don is shaking above him, until the carrel is shrieking its displeasure, and Charlie's cock is _throbbing_ with neglect. He makes double fists in the curve of Don's back and digs his knuckles to either side of Don's spine. He thrusts into the air, and knocks his knee into the underside of the carrel.

Don's hips snap, hard, up into Charlie's face, forcing him backwards into his chair and choking off his air as Don's hand grips the back of his head to keep him in place. Charlie swallows until Don lets go, and keeps swallowing until Don pushes him off, letting the back of the chair catch Charlie's fall. Charlie's arms thump to his sides and hang down as dead weight. He licks his lips and sucks air through his mouth, watching Don bite down on his gag, waiting for Don to reach for him.


End file.
